


Emergency Brake

by Lucyemers



Category: The Bletchley Circle
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Female Friendship, Gen, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Missing Scene, Rape Culture, Victim Blaming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-17
Updated: 2018-01-17
Packaged: 2019-03-06 02:48:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13401831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lucyemers/pseuds/Lucyemers
Summary: Millie rides the train home with Lucy after her ordeal in season 1, episode 2.





	Emergency Brake

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this because someone had to have this conversation with me once. And then I have had to have it with multiple other people. And current events have unfortunately brought these conversations to mind. 
> 
> I am completely uninterested in debating semantics with you related to this fic or in real life situations, and if you disagree with Millie or with me, I will not engage with you so I suggest you hit the back button and find something more to your liking to read.

The horrible irony but necessity of getting Lucy home from her ordeal via a train compartment is not lost on Millie. But needs must. At least she doesn’t have to go home alone. She sits across from Lucy, looking out the window, trying to give her some space. When she hears Lucy rummaging through her handbag, Millie glances back over. Lucy has come up with a handkerchief, which she uses to blot her eyes, almost angrily, MIllie thinks. She snaps her handbag closed in frustration and Millie can’t help but give her an enquiring look.  


Lucy sniffs. And she’s swatting at her tears with the other hand, as if she’s forgotten the handkerchief that she’s squeezing tightly in her hand now fisted in her lap. She casts her eyes away from Millie and bites out, in a harsh tone at odds with the impending tears, “Stupid...I don’t know why I’m still...shouldn’t be…” Her hand is still a fist, and, as if in unison, now her eyes squeeze shut for just a moment before her breath catches.

  


The tears finally fall. The battle against them was futile anyway, Mille thinks. It is an absolute marvel that Lucy has any fight left in her today, and watching her use it against her own tears makes Millie feel suddenly, desperately sad and hopelessly weary. “Shouldn’t what, darling?”

  


“Shouldn’t be crying”, she says softly.

  


“Whyever not?”

  


“Because,” she bites her lip, looks away from her, “Because I followed him, didn’t I?” Millie can barely hear her but as she continues her voice gets louder, panicked, “Because it’s my fault, I caught his eye on purpose, said yes, I’d like to go for a walk, I went with him--”

  


“Lucy, stop.”

  


In that second her weariness is gone and replaced with a fierce and almost innate need to save Lucy from where her mind must be inevitably going. Millie has been a passenger on Lucy’s present train of thought before. There were years of unwarranted shame she could have spared herself if someone had pulled the emergency brake for her earlier, and that is exactly what she intends to do now.

  


“Stop that right now”, she continues, gentle but firm. “And look at me.”

  


There must be something in her tone that makes Lucy meet her eye almost the moment she says it. “Did you put bruises on your own arms?”

  


She blinks, confused, but says all the same, barely audible, “No.”

  


“When you tried to leave did you hold yourself down?”

  


“No, but I--”

  


“No. You didn’t. He did.”

  


There’s a pause and then Millie can see the release behind her eyes, the tears that fall freely with her exhaustion now that she is no longer fighting them or fighting herself.

  


Millie gets up, sits beside her, picks up the handkerchief that’s been dropped to the floor, takes a clean one out of her own coat pocket and offers it to her. She takes it.

  


She watches the tension go out of Lucy’s shoulders as she leans back in the seat. Satisfied that Lucy is alright at least for that one particular moment, she lights a cigarette. She inhales slowly and the weariness is back and doubled. She feels the words spill out of her as she exhales the smoke. “Men want to own and be responsible for everything except their own hands, their own bodies.” She offers her hand and feels Lucy take it. “I for one am sick to death of it.” She takes another drag and gives Lucy the saddest of smiles before meeting her eyes, all seriousness and says, “that poor girl we found, that wasn't her fault. And on the train today, that wasn't your fault. So we'll have no more of that talk, alright?”

  


There's a barely perceptible nod and a grateful squeeze to her hand as the train rattles on.


End file.
